Immigration, the Bible, and Us

Whenever Christians weigh in on immigration, it’s tempting to just pull out a verse or two. “Love the foreigner!” or “Obey the law!” Depending on which way you lean politically, there are prooftexts ready to back you up. But the biblical picture is more complex—and richer—than that.

Migration in the Old Testament

In the Old Testament, Israel was not just another nation. They were a theocracy—a nation under God’s rule. Foreigners could come in, but there were no sub-cultures within culture. To belong, you had to assimilate into Israel’s way of life.

“The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt.” (Lev. 19:34)

“You are to have the same law for the foreigner and the native-born. I am the LORD your God.” (Lev. 24:22)

In other words, yes, Israel was to care for the outsider—but the outsider was also expected to live under God’s covenant law. Assimilation wasn’t optional. That makes sense in a theocracy.

Migration in the New Testament

The New Testament is different. God’s people were no longer in charge. Christians were a tiny, powerless minority scattered across the Roman Empire. They had no ability to set laws, police borders, or enforce culture. Instead, they live as “foreigners and exiles” themselves (1 Peter 2:11).

Christians became the counter sub-culture. They loved the vulnerable—the widows and orphans. They shared meals and possessions, while devoting themselves to the apostle’s teaching. They cared for those who had been cut off from family and culture because of their decision to follow Jesus.

Why This Matters for Us

That means we can’t just cut-and-paste Old Testament laws about welcoming, or the integration of foreigners into our modern debates. Nor can we pretend we live in the same situation as the New Testament church. We’re not a theocracy like Israel, and in most Western nations, we’re not a persecuted minority either.

Our challenge is to think carefully: how do biblical principles of love, justice, and holiness speak into our very different situation—where Christians live in secular democracies, with both rights and responsibilities?

The Right’s Mistake

On the right, the common assumption is that we’re living in something like Old Testament Israel. The logic runs: “If people come here, they must fully adopt our way of life, our values.” Integration is demanded, not negotiated.

There’s some truth in this impulse. In the Old Testament, foreigners did have to live under God’s law. A shared culture and shared story do matter. But the mistake is assuming that our nation is, or should be, a Christian theocracy. We are not Israel. We cannot baptise our national culture as godly, nor is it our task to convert macro-culture. Jesus and Paul did not. Their core focus was elsewhere.

The Left’s Mistake

On the left, an opposite error emerges. Here, the New Testament call to love the widow, orphan, and foreigner is universalised. The logic is: “We should welcome everyone equally, regardless of beliefs or practices. Compassion without boundaries.”

Again, there’s truth here. Christians are called to radical love and hospitality. But in the New Testament, this compassion was usually directed toward those who had embraced the gospel and were paying the social cost of following Jesus.

Jesus himself set limits. When he sent out his disciples, he told them to offer peace generously, but if they were rejected, to “shake the dust off their feet” (Matt. 10:14). Compassion, yes—but not endless enabling. The gospel is always at the centre, and the gospel calls for response.

Where the Gospel Points Us

So where does that leave us? Somewhere in between—and beyond. As citizens of our nations, we rightly care about good laws, fair systems, and ordered communities. But as citizens of heaven (Phil. 3:20), we also live as a counter-culture, not imagining we can fully realise heaven now.

The gospel shapes our now. We welcome the outsider not to affirm every belief and practice, but to invite them into the good news story of Jesus. We show compassion, with discernment, because true love always points toward Christ. We engage generously – practice hospitality without compromise.

The Challenge Today

We can’t simply demand assimilation, or burn out through boundary-less compassion. Instead, we’re called to be gospel people—embodying God’s kingdom in the way we love, speak, and live.

That means being good neighbours and citizens, who offer real welcome to those on the margins, while holding fast to the truth that compassion without gospel witness ultimately sells people short.

That’s the tension. And it’s also the opportunity.